“Psssst. Hey, alien guy. Are you awake?” A soft voice echoed in the darkness.

An enemy? I immediately went into high alert.

I will begin preparing countermeasures.

“You’re all over the news. Have you been looking at your social? You are like number 1 on trending.”

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“Just a woman with stomach cramps,” the voice responded, “and an opportunist. I want your business alien kid. You are becoming quite the celebrity.”

“Come over here so that I can see you,” I told her.

I connected my systems into the hospital’s mainframe. If she tries anything, the authorities will be here within seconds.

I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I? I need more skills and more power or we will always be stuck calling the police anytime something goes wrong.

Patience, Admiral. Our mission has only just begun.

With a static buzz, my personal reading light clicked on. This was it, my first look at my interloper.

Damn. She’s hot.

“Lidia Gonzalez,” the brown-eyed beauty shook my hand vigorously. “I’d like to be your new social media manager, oh, and your agent if you don’t mind.”

“My agent?” I asked.

“Of course,” she grasped my hand with an impassioned strength, “all the late-night shows are going to want a piece of you. You are famous now. Famous people need agents.”

“And why exactly would I hire a hospitalized woman with stomach cramps as my agent?” I could think of at least one reason, but that reason was not very wholesome. Also, it would be pretty hypocritical of me to bring her in for that reason. I had sworn off of love.

“Ah yes, the ‘stomach cramps’”, she giggled, “I only got those so that I could visit you.”

“So, let me get this straight. You faked stomach cramps to get in here and see me?” I didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out. “That still doesn’t explain why you should be my agent.”

She leaned back in the avocado-colored hospital chair at my bedside. “I probably don’t deserve to be your agent,” she looked like she was having a moment of introspection, “I’ve never had a client for more than a month or two. You see, I am apparently a little hard to deal with.”

“So, this is your profession?” I questioned her.

“Well, kind of,” she scratched awkwardly at her neck, “I’m a barista at the moment, but I would like to get back into the game. I even flew here from Long Beach to try my hand at getting a client.”

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“Me?”

“No, some homegrown rapper named Little Bigfoot,” she paused, “but yah, that kinda didn’t go anywhere, and now I don’t have enough money to get home. Oh, and I have a hospital bill now too.” She got to the point, “please help me.”

I found her suspicious, but also kind of endearing. Fortunately, I could test her intentions with a single sentence.

“Is everything that you just now told me true?” Demand Information, I thought.

“No.” She seemed stunned at her own answer, immediately trying to take it back, “oh, crap. I mean yes.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Demand Information, I thought again. Being level 2 was awesome. No more plugging in required, thanks to my enhanced biotic power.

“I think you’re cute, in a geeky kind of way,” she answered honestly. “Eeeeeeehhhh! Why am I being so candid?”

“You’re hired,” I chuckled at her reaction, “but, I’m just warning you, my life is pretty crazy.”

“Oh my gosh, this is awesome!” She jumped up and did a little dance, “the number 1 man on trending is my client. Wait until I tell my mom.”

Speaking of moms, why hadn’t mine texted me? If I really was number one on trending, then there is no way that she shouldn’t know what happened to me. After all, my mom was always on social media.

I checked my phone to see if I had missed her. I had a dozen missed calls, all within the span of the past few hours.

“Ethan – Ethan – Ethan – Ethan – TMZ – Ethan…”, you get the point. No, mom. I definitely had to call Ethan back though. He must have been extremely worried. I was so caught up in PAL's simulations that I had completely neglected him.

“Okay, I have a task for you,” I interrupted Lidia’s celebration, “get me on TMZ. Here is their phone number.”

“Wow,” she jumped up again, “we are already making some big-time connections.”

“Sure,” I refocused my attention on to my day ahead. Lidia could handle my fame for me, but I had more important things to worry about. The police would be by shortly to cajole me into coming to their headquarters, and I had to be ready. The stakes were too high to focus on anything else, even though I could already tell that my newfound fame, or perhaps infamy, could come in handy down the road.

.

## ##

“Treat my client well,” Lidia proudly asserted herself as we walked out of the hospital and approached the waiting detectives. “This man has been through a lot.”

“Who is this?” The police sergeant from the night before asked me.

“My agent,” I answered bluntly, “apparently I have become pretty famous.”

“Right…” The officer looked at her with mistrust.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “I trust her.”

“If you say so.”

We got into the waiting car and departed immediately. Our journey was quick and awkward. There was no small talk, no pleasantries exchanged, and a heavy tension in the air. Something was going on. Something that they were not telling me about.

“We’re here,” the sergeant said as we pulled in front of an ugly concrete cinderblock with a police logo on the front of it. “Go with detectives Harris and Graham. I will give you a ride back to your house at the end of the interview.”

“Thanks,” I said as I walked lockstep towards the building with the detectives. “See you soon.”

PAL, this isn’t a trap, is it?

My algorithms have not detected anything out of the ordinary.

Keep me informed if anything happens.

Acknowledged.

“This way, Mr. Carthage,” detective Graham led me down a narrow hallway. Graham seemed a little gruff, and slightly skeptical of me. Was I a suspect? Perhaps they had read something in that damn journal which had eroded their trust in my humanity.

“Is everything alright? Nobody has said much to me since the hospital.” Demand information, I thought. If there was a trap, this is when it would be revealed.

“One of our officers passed away a couple of hours ago,” he sulked, “she was just 23, not much older than you, and with a bright future ahead of her. I’m not sure why I am telling you this though.”

“My condolences,” I said. I hoped that her death had nothing to do with me, but the timing definitely seemed suspicious.

“Take a seat in here,” he motioned me into a dull white interview room – probably one of the most sterile and plain places I had ever seen. “Detective Harris will be here in a moment. Can I get you a drink while you wait?”

“That would be great,” I smiled, “do you have coffee?”

“It wouldn’t be a police station without coffee,” his demeanor softened slightly, “I will have Detective Harris bring it for you.”

After the detective closed the door I began to piece together the intelligence that I had been gathering. The police station was a large, single-story building with a surprisingly minimal amount of security outside of the front entrance. It had one main entrance in the front and a booking entrance on the left side of the building. There were a few cameras in the hallway, but very little in the way of any security besides that.

There is also a camera keeping watch on us.

Where? I scanned the room carefully. I don’t see anything in here except a table and two chairs.

It is in the smoke alarm. It is rudimentary compared to the concealments I am used to, but it likely has a pretty wide shot of this room.

It makes sense. This is an interview room after all, I would be surprised if they weren’t recording me.

“I hope you like your coffee black,” the door opened, and Detective Harris entered, “we are all out of creamer.”

“That’s fine,” I said, “just bear in mind that black coffee goes right through me.”

Detective Harris chuckled. “Same here,” she agreed, “I only drink it on days when I have desk duty. Don’t worry though, this interview shouldn’t take too long. We just want your side of what happened the other night.”

“Something really crappy happened,” I took a deep breath. “My friend tried to kill me.”

“Let’s start at the beginning.”